


Facing the screen

by nuclearsafetydance



Series: Deus Ex Drabbles [6]
Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearsafetydance/pseuds/nuclearsafetydance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haas finds an answer to a question he hasn't asked himself in a long time. (translation of "Kuvaruudun valossa")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facing the screen

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Kuvaruudun valossa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993331) by [nuclearsafetydance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearsafetydance/pseuds/nuclearsafetydance). 



The worst thing, Haas decided when he slumped down on the couch next to Jensen, was that he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

His chest and throat were covered in fresh, inflamed scratches, dried blood sticking to the rods that sat embedded in his skin just above his collarbones. Even now, his black fingers were picking at the scab, meeting the metal with a quiet clink every now and then while Jensen stared absentmindedly at the television in front of him. The cold light of the screen illuminated his features, painting them a sickish grey. He didn’t react in the slightest when Haas cleared his throat.

“I guess I’m right in assuming you didn’t go to the LIMB clinic after all, then?”

Jensen gave an annoyed grunt, but didn’t turn his eyes away from the screen, the biggest part of which was currently being taken over by the funeral of Tai Yong Medical’s Zhao Yun Ru, repeating itself in an endless loop. Haas knew the coffin was empty, maybe filled with a bag of sand to keep up the illusion. There wasn’t much left of the woman herself apart from a heap of ash after she had burned out in the very sense of the word deep down in the cold, submarine core of Panchaia. As always, the video was commented by Eliza Cassan, her calming voice utterly unimpressed by what was going on next to her. It probably wouldn’t have changed even a bit if she had been commenting on the start of the third world war.

“Well?” Haas asked again.

His persistence seemed to irritate Jensen enough to shift his attention away from Eliza’s face and towards him instead. He turned his head just enough so he could meet his eyes.

“Why do you care?”

The impatient tone in his voice was more than apparent.

“What difference does it make if I just stay here to rot? Doesn’t concern you in the slightest, so why do you care?”

Even after he had given an answer he already couldn’t remember, the question still lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him as he lay next to Jensen in the darkness, staring at his scarred back and listening to him breathe. 

Why did he care?

A month ago, he might have said he cared because he admired the man, maybe even loved him. Now, however, he had to admit to himself that there wasn’t exactly a lot left of that. Pity, at the very most. If he tried his best.

He rose as quietly as possible, pulling on the clothes he had left next to the bed the evening before. The floor was cold under his bare feet as he moved silently through the apartment, opening the front door. The humid night air swallowed him in one piece.

He didn’t look back.


End file.
